Postcard
by PhoenixTears55
Summary: A snapshot of Lana Lang's journal entries from her last days of her senior year. Clana standalone. 5.6.06 Finished.


Note: This is just something that I wrote on a whim. It's a snap-shot of Lana's journal entries from her last few days of her senior year.

* * *

June 

Eleventh

2005

Graduation is tomorrow. Both Clark and I agreed to cut class today, despite my being one day away from achieving Smallville High's annual Perfect Attendance Award.

"It's been a weird year, hasn't it?" I asked, as he opened the door of his truck for me. The parking lot was nearly deserted as nearly half of the senior class had ditched class.

"Weird as in meteor-rock weird or just weird in general?" Clark said, closing my door. He walked over to the other side of the truck and slide in, inserting his key into the ignition. The engine revved to life.

"I don't know...just different."

"Different in a good or bad way?"

"A good way."

"An improvement from last year, you mean?"

"Will you stop that?"

He smiled at me, leaning in to give me a kiss on the lips. The light turned green and we were honked at from behind.

Clark drove us around aimlessly around town for half an hour before stopping at a gas station near the outskirts of town. I waited in the car while he filled up, examining the bobble heads that adorned the dashboard. One of them was Smallville High's mascot, a crow wearing the school colors of red and yellow. I was there when he had bought this particular bobble head for a dollar-fifty from student council.

As I played with the crow, I watched its head bobble up and down. Up and down. It was nodding its head, saying "yes" to something. Yes, yes, yes.

"Lana?"

Clark popped his head through the window. "I'm going to head inside. You want anything?"

"Yes," I automatically replied, thinking of the bobbling crow's head. "I mean, no."

He raised his eyebrow, but didn't ask. He returned a few minutes later with a pack of twin disposable cameras and a postcard. Without speaking, he handed the postcard to me and tossed the cameras in the backseat.

"Another one?" I waved the postcard with an image of endless rows of cornfields around. I had yet to discover the reason behind the recently acquired stack of postcards that now reside with my journal.

He nodded, not offering an explanation of any kind. I've learned that with Clark, it's best to just sit back and relax. I've learned to trust him and not push until he's ready. After all, it took him two years to tell me his secret.

* * *

June 

Twelfth

2005

For those who haven't made much of a difference in this sleepy little hamlet (i.e. me), the only high point of graduation would be receiving their diploma.

As I lounged around the apartment waiting for Clark to pick me up, I played my mom's graduation speech on an old cassette player that I had dug out from Nell's garage. My mother's words had never impacted me that much until now. Her voice, yes, had impacted me tremendously when I sat in that truck in my freshmen year, but not so much as her words.

I told Clark this as I unceremoniously took off my cap and gown in his loft.

"...I mean, I feel like I've disappointed her somehow." I was lying on my back, feet planted on the edge of the couch while Clark sat in a chair beside me. I felt like a patient at the shrink's office, spilling out all my most confidential thoughts.

"In what way?"

I paused for a second. "She wanted me to make a difference here and I couldn't even do that for her."

"What makes you think that you haven't made a difference here, in Smallville?" His fingers drew comforting circles on the scalp of my head.

"Well, I haven't."

"Lana."

I turned to look at him. His eyes were shining earnestly. "You have made a difference."

I waited for him to continue.

"Not only in Smallville, but in my life. I wouldn't be half the man that I am today if it weren't for you. You make me want to be a better person, Lana. You make me see my abilities not only as a gift, but a blessing. You're one of the few people who truly believes in me and my abilities. And I'll always be grateful to you because of that."

And that is when he dropped the bomb.

Him: "Lana...I've given this a lot of thought...and...well..."

Me ?

Him: "I've decided to leave."

Me: "Bye?"

Him: "Noo...I mean, leave. Smallville."

Me !

Him: "I know what you're thinking... That graduation has just messed with my head and somehow I feel like I need to figure out who I am. And yes, that's part of it...but there's a lot more. I've been thinking about this for a while now. I just..."

Me: ...

Him: "Please don't be mad... You're the one always telling me that I have to put my abilities to use. That I shouldn't be afraid to use them to help people who are less fortunate than us. That I should think of these abilities as a gift to share with the world."

Me: (I said this? When?)

Him: "Lana? Please say something...anything..."

Me: "I...uhh...umm..."

And that is when I made up some excuse of having to put some clothes in the wash, and ran out.

* * *

June 

Fourteenth

2005

I now know the reason behind the postcards.

Clark gave me my seventeenth postcard today. It was a black-and-white picture of the big windmill in Chandler's Field. Out of the stack of postcards that I have, it's the most colorful one.

"Why postcards?" I asked, looking at him. Half of his face was hidden in the shadows. We were sitting outside. Under our oak tree.

I watched his shoulders shrug, his head bowed. "I want you to write to me while I'm gone."

"But why not letters?"

"You can still write me letters," he said seriously, finally looking up. "I figured postcards would be easier for the both of us."

"They're so impersonal," I stated. "I mean, any girl could send you a postcard with the words 'I love you' stamped on them."

"But you're not any girl."

"But by asking me to send you postcards while you're gone, you're making it seem like I'm just 'any girl'."

He sighed and reached for my hands. They were unusually clammy.

"Lana, we still haven't discussed the real issue here," he said gravely. His expression was hard to read due to the lack of light from the night sky.

"I know," I said quietly. I had spent the better part of yesterday plotting out my conversation with him. First, I decided, I would apologize for leaving him for the laundry mat yesterday. Then, we would have a very mature discussion about him leaving Smallville which would lead into the five designated reasons that he shouldn't leave. They are:

Me.

His parents are here.

The farm is here.

His friends are here.

Me.

I picked at the blades of grass by my sneakers, pulling my knees closer to my chest. Clark sat beside me, Indian style, which was quite a sight considering his long limbs.

"Are you mad?"

Mad at what? For leaving me to rot here in Smallville? For not even bothering to ask me what I thought of all this? Of course I'm not mad.

Instead of saying this all to him, I simply said, "No."

"You sound like you're mad."

"I'm not mad...I'm just..." I trailed off, looking for the right word. "...confused," I finished.

"What exactly did you not understand?"

"The part where you said that you were leaving me."

Clark didn't say anything at first. He just pulled out some grass blades and flung them into the air. I watched them scatter, the wind blowing them far from us.

"I...this is just something that I have to do," he finally said, looking away.

"Why? I mean...do you feel so suffocated here in Smallville by me that you have to leave?" I wondered aloud.

"No!" He sighed again and unfolded his lower limbs. I watched as his laid down on the grass, his chest rising gently.

"Then what? I just don't get you have to leave? Can't you help people here? Become a policeman or something," I said earnestly.

"You know that with my abilities that I could never do that," Clark said sadly. "And this isn't all about helping people either...it's about me. Finding who I am. Why I was sent here. Jor-El says that I was sent here to conquer, but some part of me doesn't believe that."

"All my life, I've been different and although I've learned to accept that, some part of me resents that. I just wish...I wasn't afraid to _live._ To live my life being _me_. The guy from another planet that can dodge bullets and soar above the clouds."

As he said this all to me, I focused on his countenance with what little light the moon offered.

"You'll never be completely happy if you don't go, will you?" I asked him, almost afraid of the answer. At this point, I had decided that I wasn't going to stop him from going. He needed this. And who knows, maybe a year or two from now, he'll come back to me.

Clark shook his head. That was it. He was leaving.

I laid down beside him, intertwining my fingers with his. And as I gazed at the full moon, tears slowly rolled down my cheeks.

* * *

June 

Seventeenth

2005

Clark came to the decision that the sooner he leaves, the better. I guess that's because he's been having second thoughts, but I know why he's hesitating. He's scared.

"Lana...maybe I should wait until the summer ends," Clark said, pacing the loft.

I was lying on a blanket that I had spread out over the floor, watching him pace back and forth in front of me. "Why?"

He stopped. "My parents didn't take the news that I was leaving particularly well."

"But they understand, right?" I pressed.

"Yeah."

"Then what's the big deal?" I knew what the big deal was, but I didn't want to say it. It would just make him leaving more permanent.

"You."

"Me?"

Clark flopped down next to me, knees drawn to his chest. "I love you, you know that right, Lana?"

"Of course," I said. "I love you, too." It was true. I will never love anyone else as much as I love Clark Kent.

"Come with me then."

I sat up, banging my shoulder with his. "Ow!"

As he rubbed it tenderly, apologizing for his shoulder being made out of steel, I began blabbing.

"Clark, where would we live? Where would we _go_? I mean, how would we support ourselves? We're just out of high school, with no college education. Who would hire us? And why would they hire us? If it was me, I wouldn't hire myself."

"Lana..."

"...Besides, I would just slow you down, literally. I'd be like luggage to you and I wouldn't be a very nice piece of luggage."

"Lana."

"Yeah?"

He leaned down to kiss my bare shoulder. "It's okay."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I want to come with you...I really do. I...it's just..."

Clark placed a gently kiss on my cheek, taking time to nuzzle my neck. "It's okay, Lana. It really is."

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

He gave me a weak smile.

"So, when are you leaving?" I asked meekly.

"As soon as I'm done packing, which will be tonight. I leave tomorrow morning."

"That soon? I thought that we'd have at least a week..." I said, disappointed.

"We still have tonight," Clark reminded me, drawing me closer to his body.

His breath tickled my skin as he kissed me. I kissed him back fervently, savoring the taste of his lips on mine.

* * *

June 

Eighteenth

2005

I woke up to an empty bed this morning. Clark and I had discussed last night that we would skip the good-byes. As far as we know, our non-good-bye was last night.

But I still needed to see him. To tell him that I love him and I will never forget him. Although I said all of these things last night, I still wanted him to know that I meant them, that they weren't just things that I blurted out in the heat of the moment.

I drove to the Kent Farm where I found a distraught Martha Kent and a lost Jonathan Kent.

"Oh, Sweetheart, he's already gone," Martha told me as soon I stepped into the kitchen.

"What!" I sank into a chair.

"He said something about not wanting to say good-bye because it was just too painful..." Martha explained, dabbling at her eyes with a tissue while Jonathan stared out the window. They both looked so old and fragile, standing there in front of me. Clark was their only connection to the world. I doubt that if he hadn't come along, both Martha and Jonathan Kent would have probably locked themselves up in this farm.

"He can't be gone..." Unconvinced, I jumped up from my chair with renewed strength.

I was right. I found him by our tree. He was leaning against the trunk, waiting for something. Or rather someone.

"Clark!" I ran to him, colliding with him, which wasn't such a good idea. To make matters worse, he hugged me tightly, making me wince in pain.

"You're here!" I cried, not bothering to reduce the volume of my voice.

"I couldn't leave without seeing you one more time," Clark said, brushing hair behind my ear.

"I thought you didn't want to say good-bye?"

"I don't." He released me for a moment, digging through his backpack. "Here, I want you to have this."

I smiled, taking it from him. It was a picture of me that he had snapped at graduation. My head was turned the other direction, and my eyes were closed. "It'll be the first one that I send to you," I promised.

We embraced again. This time I pulled away.

"Never forget me, Clark."

"I can't," he said sincerely, looking me straight in the eyes.

I blinked and a tear slid down. He brushed it away with his thumb.

Clark took a step backwards, and then another, all the while holding my gaze. I held onto his hand until he was too far to hold on any further. My fingertips slipped past his and he stopped.

"This isn't a good-bye," he said.

"No. It isn't."

"I love you, Lana Lang."

I nodded, the lump in my throat having swelled up too much for me to speak.

Almost in a blink of the eye, he shot from the ground and into the sky. I watched the blur of red and blue until he was merely a speck in the far distance.

Clark was right. It wasn't a good-bye. Perhaps it was just the beginning.

Whatever it was, I now know that I have to continue living my life. Clark may or may not return to Smallville. I may or may not see him again. But that's okay. A year from now or fifty years from now, I'll open the mailbox and there will be a postcard sitting there, a brief reminder of the love that Clark and I once and always will share.


End file.
